Discussions on a Piraty Nature
by Mermaidhuntress
Summary: On the sea-crossing from England, pre-CotBP, One-shot


She stood at the railing of the prow, peering out across the clear blue sky. They were still a week and a half from Port Royal, but the ocean still fascinated her. It was never the same twice.

"'Tis beautiful, isn't it?" Lieutenant Norrington stood beside her, the wind tugging at the ends of the ribbon that tied back his dark hair. He stood with his feet planted firmly, his hands held behind his back.

"It is. I never imagined that the sea could have so many emotions."

His firmly marked brows rose slightly. "Emotions?"

"Yes. It is constantly changing." She spread her hands out, illustrating with gestures. "Its waves get bigger or smaller, like so, depending on its moods. When it's angry, a storm rises and the water turns dark and opaque. When it's happy, it is bright and clear, and there's a fine breeze."

"Like now?"

She looked happily up at the billowing sails overhead, the wind singing in the rigging, then over the rippling water, and nodded once. "Yes. It is always moving. It's like it never wants to stay still. It _has_ to be moving. Oceans are like that. Beautiful, yet untamable."

"Don't tell the King that," he said mildly. She covered a very unladylike laugh with a delicate cough, just like she had been taught. He continued. "To tame the sea is the dearest wish of England herself. The British Empire must always be moving, always expanding, just like this ocean."

She looked out over the water, admiring how the sunlight caught in the spray of the ship's hull, sending up glittering arcs. He followed her gaze to the spume billowing out from the _Endeavour's_ bow.

He pointed it out to Elizabeth. "She has a bone in her teeth," he said. She looked up at him questioningly. "That means that the ship has enough wind in her sails so she can cut through the waves, rather than _push_ through them, and the bone is the white foam at her prow."

"Why do you call the ship a 'she'?" she asked. All throughout the voyage, she had heard the crew talk about the ship as if it were a woman. "That's silly. Ships don't have personalities. They aren't even alive."

He frowned for a moment, his brow creasing. "Ah. Well, that's where you're wrong. This ship is very much alive. You can feel her move, hear her in the rigging." He tipped his head back and she did so also, looking up at the hundreds of ropes that tied everything together. "I'm sure you've heard her before, singing." He went quiet and she thought she heard an eerie, humming noise.

"Is that it?" she asked, wondering. The sound made her skin turn to goose-flesh. He nodded, satisfied.

"That is the sound when she is moving across the vast ocean, a bone in her teeth," he glanced down at her, "and all the sails hoisted. She is a majestic sight when she's breasting the waves. I know that, once we're in the Caribbean Sea, the _Endeavour_ will be the power in those waters."

"Have you ever seen the Caribbean Sea?" she asked, looking up at him. He paused, musing, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"I have. Once, when I slightly older than you are now." He looked down at her. "It was beautiful."

"I can't wait to see it. I've heard that the water is so clear and so blue that it's brighter than the sky and you can see all the way to the bottom, and all the brightly-coloured fish. They have palm trees, and tropical birds, and pirates." She spoke the word with awe. She looked at Norrington, her face alight. "Do you think we will ever see any pirates?"

His face tightened and his eyes, which had softened a little, hardened back to steel grey. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I pray to God that we will not. They are a dissolute, corrupt lot, and they would not hesitate to kill even a young girl like yourself, if it meant they got their loot."

From the middle deck, Weatherby Swann watched as his daughter looked up to the young lieutenant. She was young yet, not yet thirteen, but in her face there was the promise of her becoming a great beauty someday. Just like her mother.

"I would think meeting a pirate would be rather exciting. Finding out what they are like and how to deal with them. According to Mister Gibbs, they are a strange, superstitious lot, with equally odd customs. To study them would be absolutely fascinating."

He glanced down at the girl with a faintly approving look. "I am sure, Miss Swann, that your interest in pirates could be put to use for His Majesty's service."

Her eyes brightened at this veiled compliment. "Do you really think so? Father believes that a woman's place is with her husband. I don't think he said that to be mean, but I don't want to be a servant to any man." She made a face and Norrington's stoic features twitched in what might have been a smile.

"But even the King needs good people to help him," he pointed out. "I agree with your father that a woman's place is by her husband, but as a partner and not a servant. I'm sure you would be able to study their habits, and the Royal Navy would use your research to eradicate them."

"So long as I do not _become_ one," she said flippantly. This startled a real laugh out of him, not one of his polite, mildly-amused chuckles that he used with everyone else aboard the ship. To have made the emotionless lieutenant laugh was a major achievement for anyone, and she was the one to do it. She returned his smile. He wasn't a complete block of wood, after all. She had seen him with the other officers and the crew, and he was always polite, but distant. He treated everyone with the utmost respect, especially her.

He pulled back from the railing a little, one hand still on the polished wood, and regarded her with a half-teasing, half-serious expression. "If you became a pirate, there would be nothing left but for us to treat you to a short drop and a sudden stop."

The Governor walked up behind them, interrupting their laughter. "If you please, Lieutenant, I am afraid of the affect this topic may have on my daughter." Norrington stiffened, the distantly polite façade slamming back into place, turning him back into the emotionless, unapproachable Lieutenant Norrington.

"I am sorry, sir," he said respectfully. He gave Governor Swann a slight bow, Elizabeth a slightly lower bow, and then turned away.

She watched as the young lieutenant walked away, his back ramrod straight and his head held high, every inch the naval officer he was. "But I thought it all was just so fascinating."

"Yes. That's what I'm afraid of," Governor Swann said with a tight smile. He knew that his daughter loved things that weren't necessarily . . . appropriate for a young girl of her specific social standing. Pirates and hanging. What would come next? The undead and Chinese mercenaries? That would happen only when hell froze over.

Elizabeth pulled her gaze away from the young lieutenant, and looked up at her father. "Lieutenant Norrington was talking about a very intriguing subject, I thought. And he says he's seen the Caribbean before."

"He is a very fine man," he said mildly, watching his daughter out of the corner of his eye. Elizabeth inclined her head, suddenly reserved. "Respectful and eloquent. Sociable, when he wants to be."

"He is," she said guardedly.

Weatherby looked out over the glittering water and wondered what their new home would be like. "Though a bit tongue-tied in polite company. I sometimes wonder if he knows how to converse on polite topics."

"I think it's difficult for him to converse with others when he's not giving orders," she said with a smile.

He patted her shoulder. "True, true. I do believe you are right, my dear. We must do what we can to help the poor lieutenant out of his little corner and into the light of day."

They seemed be able to connect well, despite being at odds with their personalities. It was interesting seeing how easily Elizabeth drew the taciturn, stoic lieutenant out of his shell when no one else could get so much as a smile out of the man. She was good for him, despite the slight age difference. She appeared to like him very much, if her lingering glances were anything to go by. After all, she was almost a young lady in her own right. And perhaps, in a few years . . .

Governor Swann smiled and turned away, humming to himself.


End file.
